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Snapshots of Life with a Legend - Appa Girija Devi |
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I was going to see her perform after a gap of many years. I knew she was 79 now, way past her prime. However, nothing had quite prepared me for what I was going to experience. Seated on the stage, facing an auditorium full of students, gurus of Hindustani schools of music, instrumentalists, and listeners, flanked by a tabla and harmonium player, backed up by two of her shishyas on tanpura, was this frail, silver haired person who the world knows as Padmabhushan Srimati Girija Devi, and whom I have always called Appa. |
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As she wound her way through the alaap, her voice gradually gained the grandeur that she is famed for. A soulful meend, an unexpected murki, the flashing diamonds and the surrender with which she held the Sa in her bejewelled palm took me back to days spent together. Almost like flashbacks in a Hindi film, my mind began to throw up images from days gone by. Appa cooking chura-matar in a large vessel for her visiting family of 23…the aroma wafting through the house…all of us shelling peas. The baby tanpura that always lay beside her on the wide double bed as she prepared to rest for the night. A glass showcase stuffed with dolls that she collected from all over the world, perhaps representing a childhood that she had never known. A visit down the narrow alleys of old Benaras, seated on a rickshaw, on our way to visit one of the last icons of thumri in the city – Choti Moti Bai. A black and white picture of Girija Devi as a child artiste from a film, hanging on the wall above a door. One April morning when Appa teased a koel by imitating its call from beneath a mango tree… |
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When I first got to know her in 1981 Girija Devi lived in a large house within the campus of the Sangeet Research Academy in Calcutta. She lived there with her only child Munni, her grandson Pammi, her elder sister, Amma, and Amma’s daughter Prabha, who was also a music teacher. She saw promise in my musical abilities and accepted me as her shishya. Much later I realized that she valued my knowledge of English just as much! Hers was a world as far removed from mine as one could imagine, but strangely I grew into being a part of the family very soon. Practising countless sargams and taans, cloistered in a small music room with her other students, was as much a part of the days I spent with her as watching Hindi films, listening to family gossip, cleaning out her cupboards, and selecting the saris she would wear to performances. I was an unusually pampered student, even though I was the least persevering in the group. One winter morning, as I continued to sleep buried deep under a quilt, way past the ordained hour for riyaz to begin, I felt a gentle caress on my cheek. When my eyes opened I was aghast to see Appa standing over me, with a rose in her hand, gently beckoning me to class. My first trip abroad was with Girija Devi and Munni didi, to attend the Festival of India in the US in the early 80s. Though I had never been on an international journey before, taking care of Appa helped me set aside any trepidations or anxieties I might have had. Long tiresome hours strapped into an airplane seat passed swiftly as I watched both my companions chant the Hanuman chalisa every time they sighted the oceans below! When we arrived in New York, she was as starry eyed as I was. The gigantic department stores, countless rows of merchandise, public displays by amorous couples, children bound by leashes and escalators were all a source of unending amusement and wonder. We nearly missed the scheduled start of many a concert as we waited in serpentine queues at the till, laden with gifts for her family in India. Large quantities of ice cream were devoured at Haagen Daas, who, we were led to believe, were an extension of the famous K. C. Das confectioners of Calcutta! My proximity to Girija Devi gave me an opportunity to get to know and appreciate from close quarters legends such as Shivkumar Sharma, Hariprasad Chaurasia, Zakir Hussain, Nikhil Banerji, Alla Rakha Khansaheb, Guru Kelucharan Mahapatra, Protima Bedi, Sitara Devi and many more. During a visit to San Francisco, we visited Ali Akbar Khansahib’s home where there was a shrine to the goddess Lakshmi. Knowing that Girija Devi was strictly vegetarian, he had cooked, with great care, a delicious dal using five varieties of lentils that I still attempt to recreate! Amongst all the dignitaries who came to meet us at a reception in the Indian Consul’s grand home was an American lady, with short cropped hair and gentle eyes who seemed to take a liking to me. She spoke at length of Mahatma Gandhi and his inspirational qualities and mentioned in passing that she also sang. It was only after the guests departed that Zakir bhai said to me that she was Joan Baez! In 1987, with support from Girija Devi and her daughter, I produced ‘Sham-e-Avadh, Subah-e-Benaras’, a first-ever extravaganza that portrayed, through the genius of Shri Birju Maharaj and the Kathak Kendra Troupe, an ‘evening of Lucknow’ and, through the combined efforts of Bismillah Khan, Kishan Maharaj, V. G. Jog and Girija Devi ,the magic of Benaras. Before the night began, Bismillah Khansahib whispered in his inimitable gentle voice, “Since I will not be alive for your wedding, I am playing for you now!” As the taans cascaded out of her paan stained lips during the concert that night, so did my memories fill the air. Alongside the plaintive strains of “Babul Mora” I could hear her voice tell me, as she had many years ago, “By the time the art attains maturity the artist gets too old.” Perhaps I had never better understood what she meant. |
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